the thug sick lyf
Furrowing his eyebrows inwards, the tanned basketball player held onto the other’s fragile state from behind. His nose wrinkled in displease as he watches Satsuki’s body shaking violently. She had vomited the remnants of what she had eaten a few hours ago it appears. With a heavy sigh, Aomine held the analyst’s hair back as he watched her face contort into a mixture of pain and extreme fatigue, “Jesus Christ, Satsuki.” He lowly murmured, pulling a few fallen strands from her face. It was pitch black outside, and like he had promised her, she was in the safety of his apartment. After having realized that her heating system back at home was turned off, Aomine wasn’t that of a dick to leave his childhood friend with no source of warmth. Maybe rational decisions were made a couple few hours ago because it was only just now that the tanned ace kind of regretted taking her back home. Despite hearing the doctors pleas, Aomine still chose to take her back with him. Whether the ace cared or not, he began to comprehend the ordeal of what she was going through. And, not that the power forward lacked sympathy, he simply had no idea what to make of it, and most importantly, he wasn't sure if he could take on the responsibility of taking care of her, “Are you ready to K.O now?”